


Meet Me Again In Another Life

by Padfoots_Pawprint



Series: SoMa Week 2016 [5]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: 3 different AUs, AU, Any world but canonverse, F/M, Red String of Fate, SoMa - Freeform, SoMa Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padfoots_Pawprint/pseuds/Padfoots_Pawprint
Summary: Because the fates can't give them a break. But hey, third time's the charm, right? A three part AU in three chapters about three different lifetimes.





	1. A Brush With Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater

Elizabeth Thompson was a crooner with a flirting streak a mile long. The number of gentlemen she had danced a dinner out of was an impressive number for any woman. It was what made other women titter nervously behind her back and clutch their partner's arms tighter. It was what Maka anxious to even consider going out with her old friend. Yet here she was, walking through one of the best bootlegging establishments she'd seen. For a girl whose father was a well-known politician, Maka was surprised to be let in until she saw the number of political figures loitering around the room. Finding Shibusen at all was a miracle. Not anyone could find one of the most popular underground bars in Death City.

"You need to sit right here," she said. "You're my guest and that means you've got front row seats. So basically, the best seats in the house."

"Because they're at the front?"

"Because they're by the piano." Liz sat Maka down at a table and gestured to the grand piano on the stage's far right. It was a beautiful, rich ebony with an equally handsome, ivory haired pianist leaning against its body.

The man's pinstriped suit came down his body in smooth, long lines. His cigarette burned slowly, idly, between his lips after being lit by a man next to him, and Maka found herself completely entranced.

"Maka?"

"Hmm?" Someone walked by her and she tried to catch a glimpse of the piano man from between glittering gowns and fine pressed suits.

"Maka, what the heck are you doing?" asked Liz, coming right in front of her friend's face. "What are you staring at?"

"The piano," said Maka seamlessly, still eager to see the man set to play.

"You mean the gentleman next to it," said Liz. "That looker is Soul. No last name. He might even have a different first name, but down here, he's called Soul."

"He's the pianist, is he not?" she asked, not bothering to hide her curiousity now that she had been found out.

"Yeah, actually." Liz sat back down in the seat next to her with her hands folded beneath her chin. "How did you know?"

"Well, he is standing by a piano," laughed Maka. "I thought it was obvious."

"Not really," said Liz slowly, "since there are at least three other men by the piano. One of them is even sitting at the piano bench. Why Soul?"

"There are?" Maka looked closer and realized that Liz was right. There  _were_  other people loitering around the piano; men that she had not even registered when she first glanced over. "I didn't see them."

"Maka, they've been there the whole time. Talk about tunnel vision, Maka. The fact that you only saw Soul  _and_ you assumed he was a piano player. How did you figure that one out?"

Her eyes dropped from the handsome man to her friend, whose glittering dress and drawn shoulders made her look regal and aristocratic. "I don't know," she confessed. "I just looked over and I sort of know."

"'Just knew,' huh?" Liz crossed her legs and threw her golden curls back over her shoulder. "Are you sure you've never seen him around Death City before?"

"I haven't. White hair on a gentleman is hard to forget. Even so," she allowed herself another drawn out stare at the piano man, "I feel like I've seen him before."

"Maybe you have. I don't know how many mayoral balls you've gone to, but perhaps you saw Soul play at one of those?"

"Not possible. They always get some old guy to play before throwing on a record. It's not fancy at all. This 'Soul' on the other hand... I don't know what he plays but it certainly looks like something unforgettable."

"Really?" Liz seemed intrigued by this new information. "I'll be sure to tell him you said that. He'd be plenty flattered."

"Oh, don't do that. I just want to enjoy the atmosphere. You know how badly my father wants to keep me away from the bootleggers. This is pretty forbidden already."

"In a place like this, it can always get worse," Liz promised with a wink before standing up. "I'm off to prepare my set. I'll see you after the show, yeah? I can introduce you to Soul."

"I'll be fine. I don't need you to introduce me."

"Then you better introduce yourself. Gents like him are worth the effort."

She hummed. Certainly, Soul would be worth the time to approach. Leaning against the piano, he gave off an air of aloofness and indifference; as if the venue he would be playing at was a casual event and not one of the biggest bootlegging establishments in the city. Regardless, he was familiar to her. From the thick white hair to the polished shoes, Soul was someone whom a part of her knew intrinsically. She'd never been struck by that before but she was struck all the same.

Maka forced her eyes away when Soul sat down on the piano bench and Liz stepped up to the microphone.

Her friend began her songs, smooth and husky and gorgeous. Maka found its beautiful as always, but her gaze kept drifting back to the white-haired piano player. His music filled the room with its jazzy sound and people took to the dance floor wearing wile grins. They all danced to Soul and Liz's rhythmic swing. Maka knowing of her distinct lack of coordination and settled for bobbing her head and a slight sway to her hips to the beats as best as she could. She got up midst all the party and celebration to move to the bar instead, throwing down a few coins in exchange for a mug of illegal liquor. The tender set to fixing her a drink, and Maka admired as Liz's performance, long and excited, came to an end. She clapped with the rest of her fellow patrons, cheered when Liz bowed, and waited as her friend finished the set and strolled off-stage.

There was a swath of people blocking her view of the piano man, but Maka consoled herself with the fact that she could admire Soul's music, as it ran through the air and surrounded every member in the bar. His sound was a little different than before. She couldn't catch sight of his fair hair from between the throngs of dancers and other party goers, but she didn't have much of a chance to look because Liz soon joined her after. Liz met Maka at the bar as that was where Maka had chosen to take refuge.

"How was it?" asked Liz, grasping at Maka's hands and nearly knocking over her glass.

"Gorgeous, as always," laughed Maka, "enough to make all the single men swoon."

"All is a bit much," said Liz with exaggerated modesty. "It was decent."

"Decent? It was amazing and you know it!"

"I do, don't you?" Liz threw her golden locks over her shoulder again. "This alcohol's not cheap. I ought to find a rich sweetheart and soon."

"You will," said Maka, "in fact, here comes one now." Maka and Liz turned their attention to the fine gentleman moving forward to approach them. He had pale ivory buttons, bone like in shape and white cufflinks. His tie, another pearly material, sat starkly against the pitch black of his suit. His hat hid most of his hair, but the gentleman's eyes looked like liquid gold in the bar's lighting.

"Dinner," hummed Liz, pulling her fur shawl closer and pushing her boobs up. "This one's all mine. I'll meet you later. Are you okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine," said Maka, watching with both the pride and awe as Liz sauntered up to the gentleman. He kissed her hand and Liz surprised Maka with her boldness as she leaned down and returned the gesture by pressing her lips to his cheek. Perhaps it was the lighting, but she half thought the gentleman was blushing. Instead, they walked into the throng of people and disappeared between them, leaving Maka alone once again by the polished counter of the bar.

"Maka," said the barkeep, who was none other than her old friend Kilik Rung, "that you?"

"It is. I haven't seen you in a long time."

"As much as I loathe to admit it, I think we met when your father was being arrested with Black*Star for over intoxication."

"Which was a long time ago," laughed Maka sorely. "How long have you known about this place?"

"I got it a few months ago out of Black*Star."

"From that idiot? He can hardly keep his mouth shut about what girl he danced with. How could he have hidden this place from us for so long?"

"Beats me." Kilik topped up her glass. "So what's keeping you here? I know Liz brought you down and all, but there's got to be more. You don't look like the bootlegging type."

"I'm not," confirmed Maka, "but it's amazing to be here. The energy, the booze and the music are phenomenal. I wish the ban had never been enacted in the first place. Still," she leaned into the counter, "speaking of music, how much do you know about the piano player?"

"Which one?"

"Liz said his name was Soul; white hair, phenomenal sound."

"Phenomenal's not what most would call it."

"Why not? That's what it is."

"You ought to tell him that. Normally he gets 'confusing, enigmatic' or, our personal favourite, 'mysterious'."

"I don't know much about music, but I know when something is  _that_ amazing." Kilik grinned at her enthusiasm. "You sound relatively close to Soul. How much about him do you know?"

"Depends. I'm not really supposed to give groupies information on Soul's personal life."

"Groupie?" Maka gawked and her cheeks coloured darkly.

"His words exactly. So I'm not at liberty. However, you and I have been friends for a long time."

"A  _very_ long time."

"So it wouldn't hurt giving you a little information."

"You're the best, Kilik," cheered Maka.

They gossiped about Soul well into the evening. They caught up and bonded over Black*Star's recent antics and incompetency and Soul's stellar skill. It was only after a few hours, during a dry period, that he asked Maka about her interest in Soul.

"I don't know," she insisted. "He just seems really familiar for some reason."

"Familiar, huh? You sure this isn't a case of 'love at first sight'?"

"I don't believe in that and you know it," said Maka, "but there's something about him that I feel like I've seen before. I can't explain."

He stopped her there to take a call. It was hurried, very urgent, and Kilik shouted a few things into the party that had broads scrambling off the laps of men and musicians hurriedly packing their instruments in their leather cases.

"What's happening?"

Kilik ordered a few men to take the remaining barrels and leave. He jumped over the counter and dragged Maka away.

"Kilik, what's going on?"

"The old man who owns this warehouse has been away on business for the last couple months. Looks like he got wind what we were using this place as the resident speakeasy. This is a police raid; there's no doubt about it. We've got to clear out."

"But-"

"Just get out. Go home. I'd walk you there if I could, but I've got to clean up. Just go home quickly. Keep your head down and don't talk to anyone until you get home. Just to be safe, got it?"

"Got it."

"The cops are trigger happy sometimes, so be careful."

Just after Kilik's warning, she heard a gunshot, and Maka ran to disappear into the evacuating crowd. She shoved her way past people, looking for any familiar faces. She couldn't find Liz. She couldn't find the handsome piano man. She felt lost among the fleeing people. When they all finally burst onto the street, Maka strode down and tried to catch a taxi to get her home faster. The sound of gunshots reintroduced themselves to them, and Maka flinched as a black vehicle drove up.

She arrived home half an hour later, her hands shaking as she removed her gloves. The dim lamplight cast shadows along her bed; a silhouette of her changed against her closet door. Maka had a hard time sleeping that night, and she awoke with a heavy feeling in her chest: a feeling that something had gone wrong.


	2. Wrong Place At The Wrong Time

"Why are you in handcuffs?"

"Don't look at me like that, Maks. It's not what you think."

"Not what I think, huh? Really?"

Harvar had his hands firmly set on Soul's arms, but Maka waved him off and took hold of him instead. "I'll take him from here. Can you put the police report on my desk?" He nodded, gave a curt salute to his captain, and left them in the hall.

"Thank you, Maka, now-" Soul started to turn, but Maka shook her head.

"Don't even try it, Soul, I meant what I said. You're going to lock-up."

She pushed him forward and Soul almost fell. "Maka, come on. This is  _not_  what it looks like."

"How is this not what it looks like, Soul? We haven't seen each other in years and the first time we do is when you're being charged for god knows what. You are not in the best position, Evans."

"Maka, I know that it's been a long time, but you  _know_ me," he said in a way that reminded her of him trying to wheedle the math answers from their homework from her. She pulled him through the precinct and into a holding cell.

"I  _knew_ you," said Maka as she locked the door, "and you were never the type to get arrested."

" _Thank_ you."

"But that was before, Soul. I haven't seen you in  _eight years_. People change, evidently."

Indeed, high school with Soul Evans had ended in a particular kind of way. They had spent four years together in a state of flirtation with a borderline romantic friendship. Her affection for Soul in those years probably surpassed that of any date she'd had since their graduation. Soul and Maka had parted ways after their graduation party, and for Maka, she had swallowed her feelings on the chance that Soul did not feel for her what she felt for him. She had either misinterpreted his kindness, or he flirted with everyone. After the party, it seemed that the latter was the truth. Seeing him now brought back feelings from another time. He was as handsome as ever despite the handcuffs and cell bars. She felt that it wasn't quite fair.

"I haven't changed that much," Soul said, "and neither have you. You still look like you did when we were seniors in high school. It's like you didn't even age." Maka shook her head and turned towards the door. "Whoa, whoa, Maka." She glanced back. "Where are you going?"

"I have work to do, you know."

Soul clutched at the bars, light glinting off something shiny on his left hand, and pressed his forehead against them. "Don't you want to know why I got arrested?"

"I thought you said it wasn't what it looks like."

"It's not," he said hurriedly.

"Then  _what_?" she snapped. When he didn't answer, she snorted a bit and leaned against the wall. "Maybe you haven't changed," she said bitterly. She had thought she could let go. "You still can't say what you want to say."

"I can," Soul bit back indignantly. "I've had eight years to work on it."

"And?"

"And..." he trailed off and Maka could see his resolve crumble before her very eyes.

She sighed. "I'm going to go check your paperwork. You've only been charged with something and not convicted. I'd like to think you're not stupid enough to actually get hit with something so my feeling is that you forgot to pay a parking ticket or you and Black*Star did something stupid. Again. And he didn't get caught. Like that suspension you got in grade eleven."

"You  _knew_ that wasn't me?"

"You're the king of being in the wrong place at the wrong place, Soul," said Maka, preparing to leave.

"Maybe I am," he said, "but you're not making it any easier." She bristled at that.

"You're getting caught isn't my fault. That was your indiscretion and not mine."

"I didn't  _mean_ to get caught, Maka, it just happened."

"Didn't  _mean_ to get caught," she scoffed. "You never mean to do it, but honestly? It should never have happened in the first place. You did this."

She took and breath and they looked at each other, both trying to see if there was more to say; as if wishing that no time had passed at all and they could resume their friendship. She wished it was possible to rewind time instead of this strange, unfinished part of them. Neither of them seemed happy about the arrangement, but one could not erase their history; the good  _and_ the bad.

"You're not talking about this arrest," said Soul quietly and Maka felt her heart constrict painfully.

"I have work to do," she said again. "I don't know why you didn't just pay whatever fine you got when you had the chance."

"I could have, but it didn't occur to me at the time, I guess."

Maka ran a hand through her ashy hair. He'd certainly not improved in his lying abilities, at least not to her. "I'm going. Maybe, I'll see you around."

"Yeah." Soul moved to the chair in his cell and slumped into it. He seemed so tired, so  _defeated_. "I'm sorry."

"Wrong place at the wrong time," she said sorely. "You don't have to be sorry about it."

"I still am."

"So am I." Maka took a final look at him and then, with a heavy heart, left him behind.


	3. Again and Again

Soul was about six years old when he first saw the girl with red ribbons.

She was sitting in the back of a car on a booster seat. Her head was tilted downward, her pink tongue sticking out ever so slightly with concentration. They had stopped at a red light at the same time. His parents were talking about what concert they would be attending later that night. When Soul glanced over at the other girl, she was still working away at something in her lap. Suddenly, her head came up to show her parents the drawing, but both seemed to be in conversation with each other. The mother's face he could not see, but the father's light red hair and fixed frown stood out.

The girl with red ribbons pulled back and glanced out the window. When she caught sight of him, she stared, no doubt in shock by the strange young boy. Soul ducked down to hide his face, not wanting to scare her. He knew that people thought boys with white hair and red eyes seemed like demons. He waited a few seconds before resurfacing, and when he did, she was still looking out the window for him. They locked eyes and the girl waved at him from her car.

Shyly, Soul waved back. The girl hefted up her drawing and pressed it to the window to show him. It was the picture of a cute pig-tailed girl playing at a park.

'It's good', he mouthed and coupled the compliment with a thumbs up.

She smiled and opened her mouth as if to respond, but without warning, both cars lurched forward, and just like that, she was gone.

* * *

Soul didn't think he'd ever see the girl with red ribbons outside of the car. Every weekday, he would see her at the same intersection, drawing away in the same car. His parents, both musicians and philanthropists, took different routes to work depending on the day. However, without fail, they always drove along the same street that her parents took.

It turned out that her name was Maka Albarn and she was the bossiest girl he'd ever seen. Once first grade started, he would wave to her from his booster seat and she, as popular and stubborn as seven-year-olds tended to be, waved back just as diligently each morning. Even when he was exhausted, he would take time during the morning drive to wave to Maka.

"How come I never saw you at school before?" he asked her once as they sat down to eat lunch at the same desk. Albarn and Evans weren't so far away in the class list, and he had ended up sitting right behind her once the teacher had put them in alphabetical order. Maka turned around, setting her lunch box on his desk, fork poised over the food within.

"You were in the AM class," she said, "and I was in the PM class. But now, our classes are together, so we can be together. Don't worry."

"Oh, okay."

Maka had a habit of guessing at how he felt before he said it. She could assuage worries he had never even told her about. This strange connection echoed through their friendship. He hadn't told her why he was curious about her -Soul didn't really know, himself- but her words had reassured him anyway and he was content. When their friends had introduced them, they kept their window meetings between themselves. She never told the others that she and Soul had had a mild friendship before first grade. They never spoke of it when they were at school, but after hours and on crisp, summer mornings, they would speak and laugh and enjoy each other's company from between windows. It was a precious time that he didn't want to share with anyone else. It was private. And it seemed that, in between the silence, they both agreed to keep it that way.

* * *

"I'm moving away in two weeks." Once he said the words, he watched as his friends' expressions morphed into ones that fit misfortune. Everyone would mourn the loss of Soul Evans, it seemed; even his teacher (whom he had been so sure disliked him) seemed keen on throwing him a going away party. That first week was the worst week Soul had experienced in all his eleven years of life. Nothing had upset him or his friends more.

The week he told his friends about the move, they huddled around him to give him gifts or the first choice in their games. The attention was overwhelming. That week was also the week Maka refused to say hello from her car. At school, she was civil and kind, but in the places where it counted, she fell through.

Soul escaped to the park with Wes that weekend in the hopes that she would be there and he could figure out what was wrong but to no avail. On Monday, she was back to normal; she was eager to have him enjoy his last week before his move.

Soul didn't have the courage to ask her what was wrong or what had happened. He pretended, instead, that it hadn't happened at all since Maka didn't seem to want to acknowledge it.

On the day before the move, the last day of school for him, he hugged all his friends goodbye and waved at them from the back windshield.

Maka was crying as his parents pulled out of the parking space. He couldn't ask her anything or reassure her.

Maka Albarn was gone again.

* * *

They promised to keep in touch. By mail, phone, or email, Soul was determined to keep his friendships alive. And so was Maka. She wrote dedicated responses to any random questions he sent her way as Soul struggled to find a place for her between tutors, piano lessons and the ridiculous charity galas his parents kept throwing in an attempt to introduce Soul and his brother to the broad expanse of their social circle.

It was Soul's opinion (and Wes') that Maka was what kept Soul sane throughout his five vigorous years of training - training which morphed Soul into the aloof introvert he was. Already sixteen, Soul had himself a persona that would last for years to come. And that is how Maka found him: with his hair gelled up donning a leather jacket and a semi-permanent scowl as he walked into her chemistry class. She was just the same as he remembered her, with her hair set in ashy pigtails and her eyes a wide, glowing green. The ribbons were now thin elastics and her cute dresses were now short plaid skirts and a pale blouse that matched his hair.

She was dumbfounded as to how this messy, 'too-cool' Soul could ever be the boy that she knew in their elementary years. Sure, his messages had been growing sparse as the years rolled on, but she knew he was stressed out and trying, even three thousand miles away from Death City, to stay in contact. And now, here he was, right back where he started. When he spotted her, she could see incredulous awe fill his face.

"Maka," he said softly. The rest of the class seemed transfixed by the exchange and watched as he walked over to her work table.

"Hey," she said. "I haven't seen you in forever." She stood and gave him a well-needed hug. It was warm and reminiscent to one they had shared years ago. "Welcome back."

"You're telling me." He hugged her back tightly before pulling away with an awkward cough into his arm. "You sitting with anyone?"

"It's all yours if you want it."

"I do."

She smiled. "Good."

Maka sat with Soul in almost every class. When Black*Star had found out that his precious friend had returned to Death City, he had been over the moon and intent on keeping him close. Soul split his time between the two friends, and when the stars aligned perfectly, the three of them spent time together.

About three months into the school year, Black*Star took it upon himself to threaten Soul with bodily harm if he ever broke Maka's heart. Soul was both confused by the threat and afraid that perhaps his feelings had bled through quicker than he expected. Even when he was younger, he knew that Maka was something special and that she was going to be one of the greatest friends he'd ever had. The shift of his feelings from platonic to romantic went mostly unnoticed by Maka. She knew nothing, and Soul was sure to keep it that way. They fell into their old ways of banter and friendly affection for one another. He would walk her home if she waited for him after band, and she would help him in the library if he was struggling with their recent calculus assignments.

They spent the next two years in a similar fashion: going out after class, spending time studying, or simply making up for lost time. Maka and Soul were at peace with each other and more than a little comfortable with each other's company. Soul savoured each moment like it was his last, dragging out their meetings and managing to drop Maka home just after curfew so her dad would flip out just for his amusement. Maka, nag as she might, never tried hard to get him to correct the behaviour, and this gave Soul permission to visit her home frequently to her delight and to her father's mortification.

Soul remembered not really liking Spirit Albarn. Even in elementary school, the man managed to put a smile on Maka's face and reduce her to tears all in the same breath. If he had to put a stamped date on the moment his dislike began, he would have said that it would be when he was in kindergarten, waving at Maka through the car window in the middle of winter. That year was the year that he and Maka would draw pictures to one another on the frosted windows using nothing more than their breath and index finger. His parents would ignore the interaction, and her parents would be too busy fighting to pay them any mind by the time they pulled up to the intersection. Maka had been crying about something one day, and when he inquired on it, she had just pointed to her parents; more specifically, to her father. When they met again, Soul offered to beat up her father, and though she rejected the offer, her small laugh was enough to settle the anger he'd felt towards the old man.

Ever since then, he'd made it his not so secret mission to piss off Spirit Albarn. Soul felt that taking Maka to prom (as friends, of course) put the icing on the cake as far as his feud was concerned. The man was overprotective of his only daughter and, in contrast, Maka was ever eager to spend a wonderful night with a boy she deemed her best friend. Although caught in the middle, she split her time between both men quite well, and Soul knew that his prolonged friendship with Maka bothered Spirit much more than it ever bothered Soul. With Maka, Soul knew he had the upper hand. She would always choose to spend time with him over her father, no matter how much he knew that she wished it to be the other way around. Still, he took her out, they danced and enjoyed the end of the school year, and Soul even managed to earn himself a chaste kiss as a thank you.

After that, everything moved smoothly. At graduation, not one student at their school was able to recall a time when Soul had been without Maka or when Maka had been more happy and content.

It was a beautiful, flourishing friendship that they were so glad to have maintained. They wouldn't have changed it in the world.

* * *

Although Shibusen University wasn't ridiculously far from where Maka lived, an eighteen-year-old Maka had been itching to get some space from Spirit, and Soul had been happy to offer her a place to stay considering that his apartment had turned out to be a two bedroom apartment. He didn't need the space and hadn't chosen it for himself, but since his parents were funding it, he said he wasn't going to complain.

"I can't take that offer then," she'd said at first. "I'd be living with you for free and that just wouldn't be right."

"So you'd rather pay half my rent?" he scoffed, "you're even crazier than I thought you were."

"Soul, I'm serious. Renting an apartment is a big deal. I can't do that to you."

"But I'm offering, Maka, it's not a big deal."

"Well, I can't except it. That's like freeloading off your parents."

"Trust me, they won't even notice," he said, his shoulders stiffening as they always did when his parents were mentioned.

"I can't, Soul. I think I'm just going to live on residence for a while. Maybe if it's really bad there, then I'll think about renting a room from you here."

"Maka, come on-"

"I'm set on this. Seriously. I'll do residence for a few years and that's it."

Only it wasn't it. She could work at the bookstore all she wanted, but she kept coming back to his apartment for drinks or to spend a movie night with him. She would get too comfortable on his sofa and pass out to whatever background music he had on or alternatively to the buzz of the television. She wasn't quite sure what it was about Soul's apartment that relaxed her. Normally, he would let her lie there, drape a blanket over her shoulders, and then make fun of her in the morning for the sleepover.

It was sometime in her third year that she realized something was different. After one too many unplanned sleepovers, she'd woken up and realized that she was in Soul's bed, safely tucked under thick white blankets. Soul was nowhere to be found, and slowly, she made her way out of bed and towards his drawers. It struck her, suddenly, that Soul had given her a dedicated drawer. She'd been over so many times that the things she'd left behind had all piled up, and her friend had placed them aside in this very drawer. She knew the drawer of her things had existed for a while -where else would she get her pyjamas?- but she had never realized how  _much_  lay within.

When had she found the time to leave so much behind? As she pondered this, she went to take a shower and found (not for the first time) that her shampoo remained in the corner of the tub where Soul's was. She had never taken it home.

Once changed and ready, she sat down on his couch and just surveyed the apartment. She was comfortable here;  _too_  comfortable. And she wasn't quite sure why that was. Perhaps it was the fact that Soul's bookshelf was stocked completely. Books sat along the bottom rows whereas his albums and CDs ranked through the top. All of them were in alphabetical order. Or maybe it was because his couch was so damn comfortable, his two pillows a light blue and ridiculously cool against her skin. Perhaps it was the pictures of their friends that he'd given a whole shelf too, snapshots from elementary, high school and even their university years.

"Morning," groaned Soul once he had decided to wake up. He sauntered to the kitchen, and she watched as he opened the fridge and drank straight from the milk jug,  _His_  milk jug, she reminded herself belatedly, because she had brought over her own milk, marked it with her name, and left it in his fridge for when she wanted cereal after a sleepover.

"How long has this been happening?" she mumbled to herself, slumping against his cozy cushions as Soul brought her breakfast.

"What's been happening?"

She took the bowl from him and found that Soul had, with practiced ease, filled it with her favourite cereal and the perfect amount of milk. When Maka glanced back at Soul, he had taken his seat next to her, a piece of bread between his teeth, and flipped on the TV.

"This. All of this. When did I start leaving stuff here? Since when did I get this comfortable? And since when did you start carrying me to bed?"

"Oh, that last one's new," he said, focusing on the screen with an unusual amount of attention. "I know finals are on Monday, Maka, but you studied for hours last night and I figured that you deserved a night in an actual bed. Besides, you're making it sound like it was my fault. You  _know_  I don't pressure you into staying over; that's all you. And you've been doing this for years. It's not like it's weird."

"I guess," she said slowly. "You  _are_  my best friend, after all. I guess it's not too strange." Soul's hand tightened imperceptibly on the remote, but otherwise showed no reaction to the comment. "Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that offer to rent a room here still an option?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"I'm just checking." She quieted, then coupled it with, "I might take you up on it."

"Really?" This time he did look over. "Why the change of heart?"

"Well, my rez is always noisy so I always end of studying here or in the library. If I do fall asleep here, I know you won't steal my wallet or anything."

"True."

"And I spend  _a lot_  of time here. Probably too much. I might as well just live here."

"That's fine with me," he said, throwing an arm back around the couch. "You can move in whenever you're ready."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Maka ate quietly for a while before she said, "Thanks, Soul."

"Anytime."

* * *

What luck...to have Soul move back to the city he had been born in. He never really talked about why he had moved back to Death City. He was alone and his rent was being paid by his parents, but he refused to divulge the intricacies of the arrangement with anyone else. Not even Black*Star knew what legalities surrounded Soul in his impromptu reappearance in Death City. Once the mystery of it had lost their high school's appeal, Soul was free to spend the next two years of school in peace. Maka watched him grow back happily, setting aside the very mystery that had enchanted their school. She was curious in her own way but refused to press him about it. Living alone was a stressful ordeal already, and she didn't want to drive off her old friend by mentioning a past he so clearly wanted to forget. She cared too much about him to risk that.

When they started living together, she maintained the same attitude: the arrangement was his own, and whatever the rent situation was could be his business as long as he accepted her proposal. After all, he was eager to forget his past. Soul was more interested in moving forward and doing things that set him away from his musical parents.

She didn't think, however, that his past would come back for him instead. Soul got his first letter from home in their mailbox the summer after he earned his music degree. It arrived exactly a day after the convocation ceremony in a purple envelope with gold lettering and a light, lavender scent. Maka watched as he moved straight to the shredder and let the machine eat away at the letter. There was no hesitation in his stride.

"Soul," she'd called out, "who was that from?"

"Just junk mail," he lied. Soul was only ever that evasive concerning ex-girlfriends or his parents, and seeing as the only ex Maka knew about was happily married and living in California, Maka guessed that the letter was from the latter.

A week later, the same, embossed envelope arrived in their mailbox and she insisted that he read it. "What have you got to lose, Soul, it's just a letter."

"But I don't  _want_  to read it. So I won't."

"You're going to have to sooner or later."

Soul was keen on it being later, it seemed, and he shredded the letter each time it arrived. Maka was almost certain that he would never reconcile with his parents at this rate. They'd paid for the apartment while Soul worked for his tuition at a record store, and each day he got closer and closer to buying a new place with Maka; an apartment without his parents' platinum card hanging over him.

It was a Tuesday night when Maka excused herself to take a work call or one that she thought was a work call. It had been a mistake, clearly.

"Maka Albarn?"

"Miss Marie? You sound strange. Is something wrong?"

"Ah, I'm sorry. This isn't Marie Mjolnir, although she was kind enough to give me your number. "This is Mrs. Evans, Maka, how are you?"

"Mrs..." She swallowed thickly. "H-hello. I haven't heard from you since I was in elementary school. How are you?"

"Doing well enough," the woman laughed over the phone. "You remember Wesley, don't you? He's a performer that travels all around the world now. It's quite amazing."

"Of course. Congratulations. That's certainly...something." Her tense voice caught Soul's attention and he glanced over at her from the sofa.

He frowned and watched his flatmate pace through their TV room just behind the couch.

"Isn't it? We're so proud of him. We can't wait till Soul follows in his footsteps."

"Um, I really don't know if he's interested in that kind of thing." She looked at Soul involuntarily and Soul blinked up at her with worry.

"Oh, not to worry, he will be. Is he with you? I know that you've been living with him for the last year and a half."

"How did you-"

"The payments we've been sending our son were dramatically cut in half, dear. How were we  _not_  supposed to know?"

"Right of course."

"Now, how's Soul doing? Well, I assume, seeing as he made time to shred our letters."

"They were from you?" she said, feigning ignorance. "We didn't-"

"Of course he knew. If he didn't he wouldn't have shredded them. But you couldn't have known." She scoffed on the other line. "He hasn't told you anything, has he? Not about us, at least."

"No, ma'am."

"I didn't think so. Soul's not about to divulge his past to some common girl he met in grade school."

Maka stiffened. "Well that's rude, don't you think?"

"I'm just stating facts. My son doesn't know how to trust people. He's like a new dog; young, impressionable and untrained. And you are no different."

Maka's face reddened considerably. "How  _dare_  you say that? Soul-"

She couldn't finish because Soul had taken the phone, swiped it right out of her hands, and strode to the bedroom. She scrambled for the door but he had locked it, his low voice rumbling through the wood in his rage.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Calling  _Maka_?"

No doubt there was a response from his mother, but it was clearly not a favourable one.

"Look, if I don't want to talk to you then that's our problem. Don't drag her into this."

She seemed intent on continuing the conversation, and Maka was honestly surprised that he hadn't hung up already.

"No, I'm not doing that." Then, "I don't care. I'm done with it. Don't call her or me again." There was a pause, perhaps pleading from his mother's side (although Mrs. Evans did not sound like a woman interested in pleading with her youngest son). "A phase? Are you kidding me? I'm an adult. I can make my own fucking choices." After a few moments, he said, "I'll deal with it. Bye," and that was it.

He didn't come out of his room for the rest of the night. Even when Maka called for him, he stayed quiet on the other side of the door, keeping his conversation with his mother to himself.

* * *

He left the next morning. Before he did, he woke Maka up, gave her breakfast in bed to distract her, and then told her that he would be gone for about to a week to clear things up with his parents.

"Soul, you don't have to," she began, pushing the food aside.

"But I want to. It's better that I go now. I don't want to have to depend on them all the time. The way they treated me and my music wasn't fair. And more importantly the way she treated you last night on the phone-"

"Soul, I'm nothing, literally  _nothing_ , compared to your relationship with your parents. They're important to you and I know that. I don't want you to run off and do something that you'd regret."

"I won't regret telling them off. I never have." He took a breath and stood. When Maka sat up in her bed, she could see the dark edge of his suitcase peeking out from behind the doorway. "I'm going to go settle this with them. I'll be back in no time and they won't bother us again."

"Soul, you've been avoiding them for years. Why face them now?"

"My life here is so much better than its ever been when I was living with them. Besides them helping pay for the apartment, I made them a deal. I've got to follow through with it. That's why my mom called yesterday; to remind me about that deal."

Maka didn't remember him ever mentioning anything about a deal. He hadn't even seemed anxious about the prospect in the days leading up to convocation. It was only after, when he obtained the letter, that he starting to feel nervous about what he had seemingly agreed to in the past; it was a past that was years and years away from where they were now. "So you've got to go back?"

"I have to."

She fixed her friend with a meaningful stare. "What kind of deal did you make, Soul?"

He looked down at her and ruffled her hair. "You'd get a headache just thinking about it. Just sit tight here and I'll be back. It shouldn't take more than a week."

"What if you don't come back by then?"

"I'll be back, short stuff, relax."

She puffed out her cheeks and dodged his hand, taking it in her grasp instead. "I'm not  _that_  short."

"Yeah, yeah, sure you're not. Don't worry too much about me, okay? Just stay here, keep working on what you're doing, and then I'll come home and explain everything. There's a lot I've got to tell you."

"Couldn't you tell me now?"

"I've got to go, Maks, I don't have time."

"You should have told me about it last night then," she pouted.

"I didn't think about it?" The suggestion earned him a slap to the shoulder.

"Can't I come with you?" she offered instead, desperate for middle ground.

"What?"

"You don't have to do it alone, Soul." She squeezed his hand. "I could go with you."

"Maka, you wouldn't want to see them. They're a pain in the ass to deal with. Sometimes, I can't even stomach being their son."

"Soul-"

"You stay put. It means a lot that you'd offer that, but I need to face them on my own. I'm a lot braver than I was when I was living with them; you taught me how to do that."

"But-"

"I've got to get going. I'll text you when my plane lands, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled, flushing darkly when Soul leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You're the best, you know that right?" Mutely, she watched him get up and grab his suitcase. She was too stunned to move until he had already left, out the door and on the plane with the rest of her heart.

* * *

"This is a mistake," she mumbled to herself, pacing off to the side of the church. She still couldn't believe the fact that Black*Star and Tsubaki had convinced her to come. After all, why would she want to be here for her best friend's wedding?

She recalled the last few days uncomfortably. Soul had left more than two weeks ago; his last connection to her had been a text telling her that he had landed and that he was headed to his hotel room. Anything that happened to him after that moment was lost to her. In the days that followed, she had called his cell and his hotel to ask if he had made it to his room before being promptly told by the concierge that Soul Evans was not staying at their hotel at all. She'd hung up and felt sick with worry. Maka did not doubt that his mother had a hand in his lack of presence at the hotel. In fact, she suspected that Mrs. Evans had likely had a firm influence on where he son had planned to stay and the days that followed. But to not be notified? To not be contacted after that point? It was as if he had dropped off the map completely.

When a letter arrived two weeks after requesting her presence for the wedding of Soul Evans and Lila Césaire, Maka almost cried. This was the deal Soul had made with his mother, he was sure of it. It would explain why he didn't want her to come with him; he knew she wouldn't be able to stomach the idea of this sudden marriage arrangement. He'd avoided his mother's attempts to keep in contact so that he wouldn't have to marry Lila, but it had caught up to him in the end. Even if Soul didn't want to marry the girl, he had promised his mother, and he was nothing if not true to his word. Promises held weight with Soul Evans, and he kept every single one.

Black*Star had gotten the invitation as well and had been far more vocal about how upset he was. He was sure to voice how "outrageous" it was that Soul wasn't inviting them to his wedding personal and made sure to say that this  _had_  to be arranged. Maka agreed, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

He insisted that they should go to the wedding. Maka refused to crash it but also did not want to celebrate it either. Perhaps Mrs. Evans had guessed at her feelings for her friend and roommate and wanted to ensure that she would never have a chance with Soul. Perhaps the invitation was a way to rub it in. She knew Soul had been reluctant to go at all, that he did not want to marry this girl. Maka entertained the notion that he was in love with someone else, but when that brought up the question of  _who_  he was in love with, she grew uncomfortable again.

In the end, Black*Star had won and he, Maka and Tsubaki flew to New York for the wedding Mrs. Evans had planned for her son. No sooner had she arrived than the regret started to seep in and Maka requested to leave, but Black*Star wasn't having it. "We've got to be sure this is what he wants."

"But it's not what he wants," she'd said.

"If he agrees to go through with it, then it's the same thing. We've got to talk some sense into him. No follower of mine is going to marry someone just because their mother says so."

And so, here she was. Black*Star and Tsubaki had already entered the church, but Maka lingered outside, refusing to accept the inevitable: that Soul was getting married and that she could do nothing to stop it.

There were a billion reasons why she didn't want the wedding to happen. She could say all she wanted that Soul didn't want to marry Lila and that she knew he loathed the idea of fulfilling a deal he had made with his mother when he was only sixteen, but there was a selfish part of her that had come for herself. Soul was her ally and best friend. He had supported her from a distance and from her side. Maka  _trusted_  him more than she had any other, and while she didn't want to admit how deep her affection for him really ran, she feared that she would never get the chance again.

"Maka, are you still out here?" She turned to see Tsubaki approaching her in a wine coloured dress. "I thought you were coming in."

"I don't think I can do it anymore."

"What are you talking about? We're here to talk to Soul- to find out why he's really doing this."

"I told you guys already; he made a deal with his mother that he can't go back on. He'll have to marry her."

"Maka, this is the twenty-first century. Nobody should marry someone they don't want to. Soul hasn't been answering any calls or messages. If he's feeling pressured to do this, then he needs to know that we're here to support him and that he can have a life without that kind of pressure; one that doesn't require him to get married."

"What if he  _does_  want that?" she asked and hated herself instantly for playing devil's advocate.

"That sounds ridiculous, Maka, get a grip." She came forward and took her hands. "I'm sure that once we talk to Soul, he'll clear this whole thing up."

"I don't know about that, Tsu."

"Well, 'Star is in there right now looking for him. He's not at the altar and the ceremony was supposed to start five minutes ago. What do you want to bet that Black*Star found him already?"

"I-"

Tsubaki checked her watch. "I've got to go in. If you want to stay out here then that's fine, but you should keep out of the way. I have a feeling Soul's mother wouldn't want to know we're here crashing a wedding despite the fact that we got invitations."

"Why don't you have to hide?"

"She doesn't know what I look like," said Tsubaki with a giggle. "That's why I agreed to be 'Star's plus one. That way I could look for Soul from inside the church without bringing too much attention to myself."

"Clever," appraised Maka with a weak smile.

"It was Black*Star's idea. He can have good ones sometimes, you know?" With that, Tsubaki swept up her gown and disappeared into the crowd entering the church. Maka lingered by the side of the church, still too afraid to go in to see the wedding unfold, and yet unable to leave on the chance that she would see Soul; Soul, who would explain just why he was getting married to a stranger; Soul, who had never looked twice at another girl since high school. Maka began pacing up and down the side of the building, which was quite old and mighty in its style. She walked past stain glass mirrors and old, carved stone of alongside the church in an attempt to admire it, although it couldn't quite take her attention away from Soul.

Lately, her thoughts never strayed far from her white-haired friend. It was strange how frequently Soul re-entered her mind during the course of the day. Even when they were in high school, she would think of him often or worry for the well being of his grades. Ever since they had moved in together, he had become an ever bigger fixture in her life than he had before, and she had grown so accustomed to him... To have him leave her now, without any real warning. To have him leave at all? It reminded her of before: of the car and elementary school, and the times Soul had dropped off the map nearly scaring the life out of her before she realized that his phone had died and that he'd fallen asleep at work for the billionth time.

She heard something move nearby, like someone fiddling with a lock. Darting behind one of the trees, Maka hid behind the bark despite the fact that it clearly did not hide her entire body. She peeked around its trunk to see the door open and out ran Soul. He was in a dark suit, reminiscent to the one he'd worn to prom years ago, with a white rose adoring his lapel. His heavy breathing and nervous glances backwards made him a flurry of movement, a black and white whirl that seemed to want to escape the church with unending desperation. Maka wanted to reach out, to say something, but the words were stuck in her throat. They stayed lodged there for a few seconds too long as another woman chased after him. She was calling his name, furiously waving her hands as she followed after him in her heels. Maka shirked back behind the tree, hoping that neither of them would notice her.

"Don't walk away from this, Soul," the woman scolded. "She is your future."

"No. Fuck that. I want to go home."

"This is your home. You grew up here."

"No, Mom. I grew up in Death City and then we moved here so I could suffer and so Wes could go to that new music school your friend works at. I wasn't finished growing, but when I went back for the rest of high school, I became an adult that makes his own decision. And my decision is to go home."

"But Soul, Lila-"

"She's a nice enough girl that shouldn't have even shown up today. She thought I was going to  _marry_  her, Mom, and you knew that I wouldn't. Arranged marriages aren't for me and they never will be. Why don't you and Dad just lay off?"

"But the deal..." mumbled Maka to herself and was shocked when Mrs. Evans echoed the sentiment.

"Solomon Evans, what about our deal?"

"Mom, the deal was that I come back. You never said I had to stay here and you  _never_  said I had to get married to Lila. I haven't seen her since my sixth birthday party. She only recognized me today because of my hair."

"But-"

"No, Mom. I've got people waiting for me back home. Hell, Maka's probably worried sick."

"Is she the reason you're hesitating with this? Because of that elementary girl you used to spend so much time with?"

"Mom, I'm not hesitating. I told you that I had no intention of marrying Lila. You told me  _Wes_  was going to marry her. That's the only reason I agreed to stay this long. But clearly, this has always been about me."

His mother pulled away to pace in front of him. "It's like you haven't grown up at all. Why won't you listen to me?"

"And why won't you listen to  _me_? I'm your son. Don't you think that deserves some recognition?"

"Yes, you are my son. And I expect you to listen to me and marry this girl for your own good."

"Count me out. Black*Star's waiting for me to meet him out front. I've got to go."

"That hooligan again? When are you going to learn that they don't care about you? They want our money and that's it. You think they're your friends, but they're not. And that Maka girl... you can't possibly think that she cares for you enough to be there. What'll happen if you carry out this silly plan of yours? You don't really want to cut yourself off from us, Soul? You can't survive on your own."

"Mom," he said slowly, with a calm that even Maka wouldn't be able to pull off, "I understand what you and Dad are doing, really, but I'm fine. I can't make my own choices. Why can't you trust me? I'm not a child."

"But you are, Soul, and you don't know what's best for you. But  _I_  do, and what's best is marrying Lila. She's got enough money to support herself and her music career could help raise yours to an international level."

"No. My answer is no. I won't marry her."

His mother threw up her hands at his defiance and Maka cheered quietly behind the tree. She knew that Soul wasn't interested in arranged marriages, no matter what the doubt in her heart made her believe. His mother's dismissive behaviour frustrated her, and she could tell that Soul was running out of patience for her rapidly. He looked ready to bolt at any minute, and Maka would be right behind him if that happened. Clearly, Black*Star had found him earlier if Soul knew about his presence. Wildly, she wondered if he knew that she had come with Black*Star and Tsubaki as well. She didn't have to wonder long, though, because at her foolish shifting to get a better look at him, Mrs. Evans turned her head to catch her standing there.

" _You_ ," she growled, making a beeline for Maka's not-so-well-hidden hiding spot.

"Maka," Soul gaped as Mrs. Evans pulled her out from behind the tree and dragged her forward. So clearly he  _hadn't_  known that she had tagged along.

"What do you think you're doing here?" the woman screeched, outraged at her presence.

"I- um, we came to talk to Soul and-"

"Maka, I'm really sorry that I didn't-" started Soul but he was immediately cut off by his mother, whose resemblance to him could be seen in the strong curve of her chin and her keen eyes that drooped ever so slightly. Her scowl was  _very_  Soul-like.

"You think you can come here are ruin a perfectly good wedding," she began shrilly, while Soul (now decidedly out of his stupor) rushed forward to extract her from his mother's hands. "Came with Black*Star, I suppose. You were both very obsessed with Soul as children. Clearly, you haven't grown up since then."

"I'm not here to-"

"Who do you think you are? You have no right to show up here, uninvited, I might add."

"For your information, I  _was_  invited," said Maka loudly, roughly going through her purse to produce the wedding invitation that had dropped into her mailbox days ago. The woman snatched it from her hands and inspected it. "I'm a guest just like anyone else. I have a right to be here. Soul's my best friend."

"This can't be. I'd never invite you to Soul's wedding."

"Wes would," Soul said idly, "especially if he was banking on them showing up to save me from this mess." He slipped a hand in Maka's. "And with that, I'll be going."

"Soul, don't you dare," she demanded as Soul and Maka made to leave. Maka felt Soul push her ahead of him, guiding her swiftly through the yard and out into the front of the church.

"What are you-"

"We're leaving. I'm so done with this," he growled behind her.

"But Soul, this is your mom. I-"

"You heard what she said," he protested, "she hates you and she won't listen to me. If that's how they want to be, then I have no reason to speak to them."

"Soul, I don't-"

"It's not just about how they talk about you or treat you. They've been making me feel like shit for years and I don't have to put with that. Let's just go."

"But-"

She turned around to stop him. Her palms pressed against his shoulders to force him back but he was far too strong. Instead, he swooped down and dropped a kiss on her lips, which served to be a much better tranquillizer than any drug she could have been given. Effectively stunned, Maka let Soul drag her out past any of the wedding's stragglers and through the street towards a cab. She was immobilized in the car, not even bothering to cheer with her friends now that they had regained their old friend. No, she was too much in shock. With Soul's arm slung around her shoulders to keep her close despite the fair bit of space between Maka and Tsubaki, Maka was at a loss for words and general movement. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely register the four of them getting out of the cab.

"Dude, let her go. We're going to hit customs eventually."

"Not a chance," said Soul, tightening his hold on Maka.

"She's not even your girlfriend," Black*Star snorted, "but I suppose you're set on changing that."

"I am."

"Hey, Soul?" she finally got out. Her voice had returned in the end.

"So you  _are_  going to talk to me?" He looked down at her and Maka felt herself pull away to look at him. He didn't seem any different than he had before he left, but she knew that something had changed. Something in his was lighter than before. Soul looked happier. "You guys go on ahead. I'm going to talk to Maka for a second."

"Suit yourself," said Black*Star dismissively, "but make it quick. Your bro didn't book us this flight just so we could miss it."

"Of course." Maka didn't spare her friends a second glance. She had eyes only for Soul, for the familiar curl of his mouth to the calloused hands that shook her awake in the mornings. He had almost married someone. And sure, he had never wanted to and had no intentions of marrying another person, the thought terrified her. That he, like all the others she had trusted before him, would choose to leave broke her heart. What kept her together was the memory that this was  _Soul_. Soul always put their friendship first; he always put  _her_  first. They were friends and family and even if she did had to stifle the urge to kiss him some days, she knew that they loved each other on some level.

"Hi," she said again, and the stinging in her eyes grew as he flashed her a trademark smile and a greeting.

"Hey," he said. She clumsily wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It was just two weeks," she said thickly.

"It still felt like forever."

"Yeah, it did." She tried to beam up at him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She hugged him and smiled into his suit as he held her back just as tightly. This was familiar and comfortable and all  _Soul_. It was a feeling she wouldn't have traded for the world. "I'm sorry."

"'s not your fault," Maka mumbled.

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay, then it is."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "You're not making me feel better."

"Good. You better feel so bad about this that you agree to do our dishes until the end of time."

"Till the end of time, huh? You'd put up with me for that long?"

She nodded. "Maybe longer."

"Yeah, okay. Sounds like a deal." Soul silenced himself for a moment before saying, "About that kiss-"

Maka flushed darker than the red of his tie. She let out a shaky, "yeah?"

"I meant it. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say what I wanted to before I left. I love you."

She laughed. Not the loud laugh that she was accustomed to with Black*Star but a laugh at her own foolishness. He loved her. That made so much sense. It made more sense than his proud mother or Black*Star's obsession with parkour. She didn't know why she hadn't seen it before, but he had loved her, truly loved her, and she loved him. Maka knew she loved Soul. The boy in the car next to hers was in need of a smile and she was happy to give it to him for the rest of his life, if she had to. His features grew worried and that just made her laugh harder. She knew that he was afraid his feelings would not be reciprocated; after all, that had been her fear as well. Yet, who else could she have loved but Soul? All her life she had been drawn to him. They had been pulled apart and drawn together like it was destiny. Over and over and over again. This was it for her. What she felt for Soul was unparalleled. The feeling had aged and flourished and become something she didn't want to control. She loved him.

"Seriously, Maka, you laughing isn't really making me feel any better. It's uncool," he was saying, but she just leaned her head against his chest as she tried to calm herself.

"Soul?"

"Hmm?"

She looked up, brilliant green eyes on him and grinned. "I love you, silly."

"Seriously?" Maka watched him blush and she leaned upwards to kiss him. "Oh. That was...that."

She hummed against his mouth and then pecked his cheek quickly. "I'm glad you're with me."

"Me too."

"Welcome back."

"I feel like I'm missing something," he said, "maybe luggage or something, but I'm kind of too happy to care. Is that weird?"

"No," she said, taking his hand and heading to find their friends with the first genuine smile she'd had in a while. "Not at all."


End file.
